Ladd Fortune (4 page)

Malcolm made a mental note of her
reaction, then asked, “So we know, and Ashley knows,
right?”

“
Ida knows,” Delaney
reminded. “If Ida knows, the whole town could know!” Delaney
paused. “And Candi works with Ida.”

“
So?” Nick asked, as though
it were irrelevant.

“
Candi is Annie’s best
friend.”

“
Wonderful,” Malcolm said
and slapped his knees.

“
But you can’t be sure,”
Nick said.

“
I can’t be sure of anything
at the moment!” Delaney cried. “She may very well know as we
speak!”

“
There, there,
Delaney.”

Nick pulled her to him, but she
resisted, putting several feet between her and them. She paced the
living room. “This is horrible—now Jeremiah and Annie will find out
about the gold and the fact that Ernie is sick. They’ll gang up on
us in court and we’ll lose for sure!”

Nick stood. “Let’s not get upset about
something we don’t know to be a problem, yet.”

“
Exactly how are we going to
determine if this is a problem?” Malcolm asked Nick. “Get our hair
done and listen to the latest gossip?”

Nick looked to Delaney for the
answers—but she returned a blank look.

“
Are you close with Candi at
all?” Nick asked. She shook her head. “Do you know anyone who is?
Anyone that will talk to us?” Nick walked toward her but seemed to
think better of it and stopped. “What about Ashley? She must be
able to ask Ida.”

“
She wasn’t supposed to tell
anyone in the first place, remember?”

“
There has to be someone we
can ask, probe to see if the news of gold has been
leaked.”

Malcolm looked to Nick who looked to
Delaney. The room felt like a ticking time bomb. They didn’t have
time to waste fighting in court. He and Nick had already drawn up
the rough sketches for the new hotel. If this Jeremiah character
challenged them in court, he could tie their hands for weeks,
months—months they couldn’t afford. Not with Jillian Devane
breathing down their backs from a mountain range over. According to
their attorney, Malcolm understood Jillian had closed on her deal
and was ready to submit permits. Once she squared those away it was
a race to the finish line—opening day. Tension rippled across his
neck and shoulders. Malcolm had only been in town for a week and
already the time was stacking up against them. It was not a
position he preferred to be in.

Unable to sit idle another minute,
Malcolm stood. “I say we force his hand. We consult with a local
attorney. Odds are we have nothing to worry about.” Unless there
was something Delaney and Nick weren’t telling him. By the looks of
them, he realized it was a distinct possibility.

Chapter Three

When Jeremiah pulled into his old
homestead with his girlfriend Loretta Flynn seated by his side, a
slew of emotion washed through him. It had been almost twenty years
since he’d last set foot on this property. Twenty long years since
he’d ditched this place for Atlanta in search of new horizons, a
new life. Slowing his truck, he settled his gaze on the house he
grew up in. The roof was falling off, the porch was battered, worn
to the point of near collapse. Windows were cloudy from years of
dust and grime, the front patch of grass nothing but weeds creeping
over a gravel driveway.

But neglect was the way Ernie Ladd
rolled. Throughout his childhood, Jeremiah recalled his life as
endless days fending for himself, nights huddling beneath the
covers in the darkness, scared of who or what may walk through his
door. Alone with his father, there had been no comfort for a young
boy’s fears. There was nothing but bitterness. His mother had left
them. She dropped him at grade school one morning and never looked
back. Not a call, not a visit. Not so much as a card.

Jeremiah couldn’t blame her. Living
with Ernie Ladd was hell. He drank, he bickered, he grumbled and he
beat. He was miserable, and made sure everyone around him was the
same. The only bright spot in Jeremiah’s life had been his Aunt
Susannah. When she dropped by the house, his old man turned quiet.
Sober, brooding, and he kept his mouth shut.

Unfortunately, Aunt Susannah’s visits
were too far and few between.

Tossing the truck into park, Jeremiah’s
stare glazed over. Actually, he was surprised he’d stayed as long
as he had. But in the beginning it had been tolerable. Almost
normal. Then the old lady took off and the remaining years amounted
to a prison term. Twenty years, Jeremiah mused. Twenty long years
and now it was time to collect. He’d done his time, paid his dues.
It was time the old man paid his. Pulling the keys from the
ignition, Jeremiah deposited them in the center console and slid
free of the vehicle. His gut tensed as he looked to Loretta. “I’ll
be back in a sec.”

Loretta waved him off with a wriggle of
her fingers and a pop from her chewing gum.

Jeremiah shook his head. Loretta was a
bleach-blonde babe, an ex-stripper he met in the city but one with
the mannerisms of a child. Of course with her body she could act
any damn way she pleased. Not like he was dating her for her
quirks.

Albert Ladd spotted Jeremiah
immediately and even from this distance, Jeremiah detected the
shade being drawn over his eyes. He wasn’t welcome. Even the oaf
understood.
The prodigal son’s return meant
trouble
. Jeremiah swallowed old resentments
and strode over to the porch. Uncle Al had been as bad as Ernie
when it came to the beatings, though his belt had been swung across
Billy and Robby’s hides, the sting was felt by all three. Jeremiah
and his cousins were six months and two years apart in age. They
swapped stories, swapped joints—they also plotted an end to the
abuse. It was an end that never happened. Billy was sent to juvie
for robbing the local gas station and Robby took off running.
Jeremiah wasn’t far behind, ditching Tennessee at seventeen, headed
for Atlanta.

Taking the steps two at a time,
Jeremiah landed on the top with a decisive thud. “Hello, Uncle Al,”
he said, a notch more cheerfully than warranted. “It’s been a long
time.”

Albert visibly cowered, all trace of
ease erased from his dope of a face. He was still enormous in size,
still wore the same dingy denim coveralls Jeremiah remembered from
his youth. His stringy brown hair was thinner, the scraggly ends
hanging down to his shoulders. Didn’t look as if old Albert had
changed a bit. “What’s a matter?” Jeremiah taunted. “No words to
welcome back the prodigal son?”

His uncle evaded him with a sideways
glance.

Jeremiah laughed. “Oh, c’mon Uncle Al.
Be glad it’s not your own son showing up on your doorstep. Now in
that case I’d say you had something to worry about!”

“
What are you doin’
here?”

At the familiar voice, Jeremiah turned.
There in the doorway stood his father. Through the filmy screen of
dust, Ernie Ladd was a stick with his tan shorts pulled nearly up
to his chest. Jeremiah could clearly see the dark eyes boring into
him, magnified by black framed glasses. The old man certainly
hadn’t lost his vigor for hate. Jeremiah could feel it from six
feet away. Squaring his shoulders, he took his father head on. “I’m
here to collect what’s mine.”

“
What are you talkin’
about?” Ernie snarled.

“
I’m talking about Ladd
Springs.” The old man stiffened. “I understand you’re trying to
steal it right out from under me.”

“
I ain’t done no such
thing!” his father exclaimed.

“
That’s not what I
heard.”

“
Well, you heard wrong,”
Ernie countered, but didn’t move a muscle. Which meant he was
worried about his son’s next move. “This property ain’t yours, it’s
mine.”

Jeremiah savored a private smile. It
gave him great pleasure to watch his father squirm. So much, he
hated to see it end. “Either way, I intend to find out.” Glancing
up the mountain, toward his Aunt Susannah’s cabin, he asked
casually, “Is Delaney home?” Lacy Owens had told Loretta that his
cousin had moved into her mother’s hillside hideaway. She’d also
mentioned that Delaney had a daughter.

Ernie followed his line of sight and
muttered, “I ain’t the woman’s keeper.”

“
Only her benefactor,”
Jeremiah said, pinning him down with a scowl.

If looks could kill, Ernie would have
obliterated his son. Gladly watched as his son crumbled to nothing
before his very eyes. Jeremiah laughed again, but this time, threw
his head back to make a grand show of his disdain. Drawing his head
forward, Jeremiah leveled, “You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still
the pathetic little man I remembered you to be.”

“
You go on from here,” his
father growled, as though chasing off a pesky raccoon. “Go on!” he
hollered, retreating into the dark confines of his cave.

Coward. The man didn’t even have the
courage to step clear of the threshold and face his son man-to-man.
With a fleeting glance to Albert, unease nakedly exposed in his
expression, Jeremiah turned and hammered down the steps
half-wishing one would break. That would make it easy. He’d sue and
take the old man for everything he was worth. It’d prove a lot
cleaner than sparring with Delaney. Was she still as hot and
hellacious as he remembered?

He chuckled. Time to find out up close
and personal.

Jeremiah navigated the steep, narrow
trail, carefully climbing over jagged rocks and exposed roots. He
slipped on a wet patch of clay and cursed under his breath.
Grabbing a gnarled root for an assist, Jeremiah hauled himself up
another few feet higher. At this rate, his new ostrich boots would
be destroyed by the time he reached Delaney’s cabin.

Make that her mother’s
cabin, the one his father built so she could evade the wrong end of
a belt. Her father’s. Grandpa Ladd had been a hard-drinking man
with a temper to match. He’d whip off his belt for as little as a
cross word, smacking his boys as easily as he swatted flies. It’s
no wonder Ernie and Albert never amounted to much. Their father set
the bar out of their reach, then stomped them into the mud when
they failed to achieve. But that didn’t give them the right to take
it out on their own boys. It wasn’t
their
fault life stunk like rot on a
carcass for Ernie and Albert. They could have left, same as he did.
But they didn’t. Neither one. They stayed, then took out their
miserable hate on him, Billy and Robby.

Reaching the top, Jeremiah
paused, more winded than he expected to be. Glancing at the tiny
wooden structure, the basic four walls and porch that had been
etched in his memory, he inhaled deeply. The scent of evergreen and
laurel and oak permeated his being, transported him back to days
spent running through the forest, sneaking behind the cabin,
crouching in the brush to evade detection by Delaney. Visions of
Aunt Susannah flooded him. Smiling, sweeping her porch, she waved.
Jeremiah almost raised a hand in return. Delaney and he had run
circles around this place. They played hide and seek, cops and
robbers, war—whatever they wanted, Aunt Susannah let them
play.
Kids were meant to be
kids
, she’d tell them. Spare the rod and
love the child had been her motto. He had longed to live with her,
hide out, like she had, and live without fear of ever being beaten
again.

But life didn’t work that way. Life
sought you out and found you without fail. Like Jeremiah’s games of
hide and seek in the woods with Delaney, one could only stay hidden
for so long. Then the night critters came to call and the fun
ended. That was how life worked.

Jeremiah breathed in, filling his lungs
with fresh air, his mind and spirit with hope. Sometimes you caught
a break. The possibility of gaining title to Ladd Springs had come
at a perfect time for him. He owed money and a lot of it, but once
he owned this property, the money he could gain from selling it
would pay his debt, plus a truckload extra. He smiled inwardly. And
he and Loretta could surely burn through money.

Jeremiah pulled his body
erect and stood tall. Catching glimpse of movement inside the
cabin, he swelled with pleasure. Delaney was home.
Knock, knock, guess who
?
None other than your old pal,
Jeremiah
. With a renewed sense of purpose,
he approached the cabin.

The sharp knock on the door stopped
Delaney’s heart. She flashed to it, then to Nick and Malcolm.
Overwhelmed by the thwacking in her chest, she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe. The tall figure visible through the etched glass
was too familiar. Apprehension iced her blood.

Jeremiah.

Nick strode over to the door, checking
with Malcolm as he did so, as though silently coordinating their
battle plan. Delaney was struck by their communication. Constantly
conferring, it felt like the two men shared brain cells, spoke in
terms of ESP.

But she was grateful. At the moment,
two defenders felt better than one.

Nick opened the door and her nerves
caught. Taking up nearly the entire space stood Jeremiah Ladd.
Taller than she remembered, his blond hair had turned sandy-brown.
Cut in layers, it was cropped short around his face. While his jaw
was set in the firm line of confrontation, his light brown eyes
held a mischievous gleam. He was the same old Jeremiah she knew in
an instant—the one who, given the chance, would taunt
relentlessly.